


Out of Order

by imunbreakabledude



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 01, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don't Take This Too Seriously, F/F, Sliding Doors AU, technically not based on the movie actually based on the broad city homage episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26278594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imunbreakabledude/pseuds/imunbreakabledude
Summary: Two women met in a hospital bathroom.They had sex in that bathroom.Their lives were never the same.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 33
Kudos: 123
Collections: Killing Eve Week 2020





	Out of Order

**Author's Note:**

> This is an insane concept that came to me one day when joking with someone about how if Eve and Villanelle had sex in the bathroom in 1x01, it might change the course of the entire series.
> 
> With the Canon Divergence prompt for Killing Eve week, it seemed the perfect time to test the theory to its logical extreme... 
> 
> I tried a little something with the narration style. I don't know if it worked. I beg you not to take this too seriously.

⇄🚽⇆

Villanelle rarely thought about much while doing her business. Usually, she worked so quickly there wasn’t much time to think of anything before grabbing a few squares of toilet paper and going on her merry way. Today was an exception. Today, she was especially annoyed as she sat on the toilet, stewing longer than necessary after her business was finished. In fact, this bathroom break was an essential part of her preparation for her work. Firstly, because nothing ruined the rush of a job well done like clenching her legs to hold in her pee, and secondly, because a bathroom stall was the only place she could let her guard down for a moment and clear her head before switching on the hyper-alertness that her work demanded.

She was sent to this hospital to do a job. In Konstantin’s words, she was supposed to _“clean up your own mess before my bosses make things unpleasant for me, which will make things unpleasant for you.”_

Villanelle never liked being ordered around. She wasn’t unreasonable; of course she understood her role within the organization, whatever organization it was, for one of their conditions was that she know only what was necessary to carry out her role in the machine; but still, she wanted Konstantin to back off and stick to his role.

They decided who to kill. Villanelle decided when and where and most importantly, how.

Except today. Today, she was stripped of her autonomy in this regard. Konstantin, finger wagging, had told her, _“Nothing fancy. Make it look like suicide.”_

Where was the fun in that?

So she sat. She sulked. She turned the situation over and over in her mind, determined not to leave this hospital without something, anything to keep in her thoughts that night. To make her smile and keep away the crushing boredom.

Fortunately, just short of her legs falling asleep, her grumpy daydreaming was interrupted by the sound of someone entering the bathroom.

Villanelle heaved herself up and pulled up her pants. Thanks to her training that made her take in every detail of her surroundings, she recalled the other stall of the bathroom had a sign proclaiming it “Out of Order”. The last thing she wanted to deal with was an anxious university-age girl rapping on the stall door begging her to hurry up. She hit the flush and headed out, resolving to disobey Konstantin just a bit, and find a more exciting way to kill the little junkie, because she needed something, _anything_ , to break up the boredom or she’d go mad by morning.

As it turned out, the other person in the bathroom was not a nurse, or another staff member, or a young woman visiting an ailing grandparent. It was an Asian woman, certainly mature, though whatever her age was, she didn’t look it. She was dressed in a lightweight gray jacket over a white button down, staring into the mirror, fixing her considerably voluminous, curly hair. She was so engrossed in her task, she didn’t even notice Villanelle’s presence.

After a full ten seconds of Villanelle’s unwavering stare, however, she did notice.

“Are you alright?” the woman said, freezing in the middle of raising her curls into a ponytail.

Villanelle noticed her mouth was hanging open. She kicked her brain into overdrive, voluntarily accessed her body’s production of adrenaline, and went into work mode.

“Actually, no,” she said, in a smooth English accent – borrowed from a TV show she enjoyed. “Would you help me with something?”

Villanelle, as always, was trained to take in every detail of her surroundings. She saw the wedding band on the woman’s finger. She also saw the hungry look in the woman’s eyes. Unsatisfied. Craving something she couldn’t name. A look not unlike that reflected in Villanelle’s own eyes in the mirror above the sink.

The woman didn’t say another word, but the understanding of what was to come was already complete.

Villanelle swiped the “Out of Order” sign from the stall door and walked towards the exit. She peered out into the hallway, then placed the sign on the outside of the door to the restroom. Better not to be disturbed, for the next few minutes.

⇄🚽⇆

Conscious thought didn’t return to Eve until she sat on the toilet.

That didn’t just happen.

Her phone rang; it was Bill. Now that she was sure she was alone in the bathroom again, she felt no self-consciousness about answering while in the stall.

“Hey, Bill.”

“Did you just have sex?”

“What? No.”

“You’re all breathy.”

“I took the stairs.”

“You sly dog.”

“Did you have an actual reason for calling, or did you just want to make insane accusations?”

“Funny thing. I can’t remember.”

“Thanks, Bill.” Eve rolled her eyes as she pulled at the toilet paper.

“Who was it? Surely not Niko; you wouldn’t be this cagey. Does he know? Have you finally asked him about opening up the marriage? Good for you, it was about time.”

“I’m hanging up now.” She finished up and went to wash her hands.

Eve didn’t do things like this very often. Or _ever_ , more precisely.

Of course, she’d had a one-night stand or two in her time. Even a couple of flings with strangers in bathrooms, but those were club bathrooms, not hospitals. And they were men, not a devastatingly beautiful and alarmingly forward female nurse who never gave Eve her name.

Perhaps it was because the nurse’s approach was so novel an experience for Eve that she found no adequate rebuttal. _It all happened so fast_ , she kept telling herself. So fast, indeed, that she couldn’t really be sure it happened at all.

Maybe her imagination was acting up again. After all, Bill had already accused her of living in a dream world plenty of times this week. Dreaming up an international conspiracy using one wickedly effective female assassin to carry out their sinister aims. Maybe, this also included dreaming up an outlet for her sexual boredom (about which she now deeply regretted confiding in Bill).

As she stared in the mirror over the sink for the second time that night, she noticed a new development, a detail that hadn’t been there when she first walked into the bathroom.

A dark spot on the side of her neck. A hickey. She hasn’t had a hickey in years. Apparently, the experience wasn’t her imagination, after all. She pulled up her collar to cover the offensive spot and pushed the thought away.

Her brain didn’t apply the label “adultery” to the incident until several hours after the fact, owing at first to the shock and the afterglow, and then to a different sort of shock entirely when she emerged from the bathroom to find the key witness she was sent to protect dead in her hospital bed.

“How?” Eve asked over and over while sitting on the bench outside Kasia’s room. The hospital staff had sent Eve away while they did what they could, although Kasia was still completely unresponsive, and likely too far gone. “How? How?”

“She was fine a moment ago,” Dom said. He was still holding a few chocolate bars he’d gone and bought from the vending machine to try to cheer Kasia up. God, what a sweet kid. Eve ought to have felt more guilt over exposing a child to this despair, but her veins were too full of a lethal cocktail of adrenaline and oxytocin preventing any kind of rational response.

Heroin overdose was the cause of death put on the record.

Even as Eve reported this development to her superiors at MI5 later that night, she already doubted its validity.

Several pairs of eyes upon Eve: the disdainful glance of Frank, just looking for some excuse to sack her, the curiously inscrutable gaze of Carolyn Martens (Lord knows what her angle on this was), and the infuriatingly light look coming her way from Bill, that said _Even in the gravity of this situation, I haven’t forgotten our phone call._

“As tragic as this turn of events is,” Frank said. “We have to discuss why you were at the hospital in the first place, Eve.”

“I was checking up on the security detail,” Eve said. No reason to confess that she planned to interview Kasia with the help of a more youthful translator.

“Fat lot of good that did.”

“Mr. Haleton,” Carolyn cautioned.

“Do you reckon…” Bill trailed off. “No, never mind.”

“What?” Carolyn prompted.

“She was never quite coherent, and if she witnessed the murder of her boyfriend just yesterday, right before her eyes, she was probably proper scared. Then, held in custody in a foreign country against her will… No one to talk to… Do you reckon it was intentional?”

“Suicide?” Eve scoffed.

“That’s the first sensible suggestion you’ve made in years,” Frank said.

“You’ve got to be joking,” Eve said.

“A heroin addict overdosing is, sadly, well within the realm of possibility,” Carolyn pointed out.

“Where’d she get the drugs?” Eve asked. “Someone had to give them to her. Someone who wanted her dead, and wanted our investigation dead. I think we’re looking at a murder. A clever-as-hell murder.”

“ _You_ are not part of any investigation, Eve.” Frank bristled underneath his prickly beard. “Your job was to protect her, so you’d better hope no one gave her that heroin, because if this really is a murder, you should be sacked.”

“Up the arsehole,” Bill said, unprompted. Everyone turned to look at him. “That’s where some hide an extra stash. So I’ve heard. Or, I suppose, she could use the _other_ compartment.”

Eve exchanged a look with Carolyn Martens. Eve thought the look said _“Continue with your theory.”_ Although, Carolyn really meant the look to say, _“The other compartment is plausible.”_

Eve took a deep breath. “I think we need to–”

“You had better watch what comes out of your mouth next,” Frank snapped, “Unless it’s an explanation of what exactly you were doing at the hospital that you didn’t manage to see a fantastical assassin waltz in and play drug dealer.”

Eve froze. She thought about what she _was_ doing at the time of Kasia’s likely overdose. Coming for the second time, most likely. She shut her mouth.

“Let’s indulge for a moment and suppose Eve’s theory of murder were true,” Carolyn says. “Do you have any idea of who this assassin might be?”

She was genuinely interested in hearing Eve’s input. If only Eve had anything useful at all to tell her – if only she could recall any of the people she’d passed in the hospital halls on her way back to Kasia’s room, but there are no faces in her memory. Only the feeling of warm lips on her neck, of long fingers curled up inside…

“No.” Eve swallowed. “No idea.”

Nor any thought of what she’d tell Niko.

⇄🚽 ⇆

Villanelle was extremely pleased with herself when she arrived home in Paris. Giddy, even.

“Nice job,” Konstantin admitted, gruffly. “You cleaned up very well. They believe it is either a suicide, or an accident.”

“I am excellent at following instructions.”

Konstantin laughed, for this was a bald-faced lie. Indeed, out of fifteen contracts he’d assigned to Villanelle since becoming her handler, he had to admonish her for some breach of protocol (or common sense) on six of them. Still, even when she was bad, she was _good_ , and no one knew that more than Villanelle herself.

“You deserve a reward for good behavior.” Konstantin offered her a postcard. “You’ll enjoy this one. Asthma.”

“You know I love the breathy ones!” Villanelle giggled in delight. “Oh, I have just the thing that I’ve been saving for a time like this.”

Konstantin smiled a pained smile. A knowing smile. A suspicious smile. “Why are you in such a good mood?”

“I love doing my job just as you tell me to do it.”

“You don’t find it boring?”

“What? Handing a druggie a packet of heroin, then watching her make a mistake all on her own?” Villanelle pours herself a tiny glass of water. “No, that is the most fun I’ve ever had.”

Konstantin raised an eyebrow. He knew Villanelle well enough to tell she was hiding something. However, so long as she did as she was told on the job, he was hesitant to press any further, for fear of upsetting the delicate balance he’d achieved.

“Enjoy the fundraiser,” he told her. “Remember your catering training.”

“I’ll spit in their soup extra, just for you.” Villanelle watched Konstantin go and slammed the door of her apartment behind him.

She fingered the postcard. She knew she would enjoy this job. Something to look forward to tomorrow.

That night, she dreamed of the Asian woman with amazing hair and heard the pitch of her moans. It didn’t stop when she woke, either. The vibrations resonated in Villanelle’s bones, in her heartstrings, while she mixed a deadly perfume.

⇄🚽⇆

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re caught up about something, Eve, I can tell. Tell me.”

Eve leaned over to the nightstand and turned on the light. Apparently, Niko wouldn’t let her sleep until she gave him something. Just as well, since she’s in for a night of insomnia after what she’s been through that evening.

“A witness died.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry. That’s horrible.”

“Drug overdose, and they think it might be suicide, but…”

“You’re not so sure.”

“It’s just a little too convenient, I think.”

“In the world of agents and spies, I suppose anything is possible,” Niko said. “How are you feeling, though?”

“Fine.”

“You can tell me.”

“Really. I’m dandy. Thrilled I still have a job, frankly, though I probably sank any hopes of getting promoted this century.”

“You’re not… angry?”

“Why would I be angry?”

“I know you, Eve. You should be all worked up over this. In a frenzy.”

“Fuck off,” Eve chuckled affectionately.

“I mean it in the best way!” Niko leaned over and kissed her. “You’re relentless, darling.”

“Oh, now it makes sense. You want sex.”

“Can that be arranged?”

Eve felt a flashback, an echo of throwing her head against the flimsy side of the bathroom stall as she climaxed earlier that night. There was no way to say no to him, not tonight. “I suppose so.”

Niko hefted himself up, propping up with his arms against the mattress. He bent down and kissed Eve, first on the cheek, then towards the earlobe, and Eve realized too late that it felt a tad too familiar.

“What’s this?”

Niko’s breath fell warm on the spot where Eve knew, as she saw in the mirror a few hours ago, her skin faded from pale olive to purplish-brown.

“Just a bug bite, or something. Maybe eczema. I’m not sure.”

“You know what it looks like…”

“I know,” Eve said. “Don’t make me embarrassed about it all over again.”

After another second of thought, Niko weighed this suggestion, and accepted it. He certainly didn’t think his wife was the type to walk around getting hickeys in hospital bathrooms. He’d sooner believe she was a secret agent, than that she committed adultery.

While she wasn’t an agent, as Frank so acutely pointed out… She wasn’t part of any official investigation, but if no one else was going to follow up on the very real possibility of foul play, wasn’t it her responsibility to do something about it?

“Are you alright?” Niko asked, noticing how she lay, tense, not participating.

“Yeah, I mean, no,” Eve sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I am frustrated after all.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I just… I think I’m tired. Can we take a rain check?”

“Fine. I’m filing that one away.”

Niko turned off the lamp, and fell back onto his side of the bed.

As predicted, Eve did not sleep a wink that night. As she stared up into the darkness of her bedroom, trying to remember anything unusual she’d spotted that night, she only saw one face, over and over again.

⇄🚽⇆

For the first time in her life, Villanelle was clamping balls. A novel experience, which turned out to be just as much fun as it sounded.

Her current target, Zhang Wu, moaned in pleasure, until he didn’t. His file had informed her he was also known as Fat Panda. Good nickname. Villanelle liked coming up with nicknames, too – the front desk clerk at Hot Medica believed her name was Frieda Ryde. Villanelle enjoyed a good pun.

She let out a self-indulgent guffaw as she turned on the gas to suffocate the masochist on the table. What a lucky fellow. Villanelle wondered if she should anonymously submit an obituary for him: _he died doing what he loved_.

Once it was done, she changed into a nondescript outfit of warm-up pants and trainers, and snuck out the back entrance. Killing always made her hungry and horny. A stop to pick up some schnitzel and chips would take care of the former, but as for the latter…

As she tossed her nurse outfit in a dumpster, she recalled the last time she dressed as a nurse, a few weeks prior. How delicious that was…

She walked down the street of Berlin, head down, underneath the brim of her plain cap, still, ever-alert. She passed a group of tourists – American, she thought, but then a few speaking Québécois French suggested the group was, in fact, Canadian. One woman among their ranks was dressed in a rich, camel-colored trench coat, with curly brown hair spilling over her back. She pulled up her handbag. She spoke English, excitedly asking the guide to point out some sight. She’d do fine, but…

Villanelle couldn’t quit thinking about that woman from the hospital bathroom. Something about her was simply _better_. She didn’t want a second rate substitute, she wanted the real thing.

It was good to have goals outside of work, she thought. Something to work on. Something to strive for.

⇄🚽⇆

To the best of her effort, Eve did her job like she was supposed to. Mindlessly, soullessly. Frank kept up the jabs for about a week after Kasia’s death and then finally let up. Eve decided to rise above it rather than fire back at him. She was the bigger person.

Maybe not the bigger person, though. Maybe she was the bigger dickswab, because she was right there in the hospital committing adultery while an innocent girl was likely murdered.

It had to be a woman that did this. Eve knew it in her gut, even though there was no CCTV… Why on Earth would Kasia have referred to the killer as “ _ale decha_ ” if not? Unfortunately, the one bit of evidence she had was obtained illegally, and any attempt to further investigate the circumstances surrounding Kasia’s death would not only get Eve sacked, it might also uncover Eve’s actions that night.

The assassin kept doing her job, too, Eve noted with an equal combination of satisfaction and horror. She flagged two kills that following week that match the flamboyant, devastatingly clever style that Eve had tracked for years. Carla de Mann, perfume designer, found dead in the Ladies’ Room at a fundraiser. Zhang Wu, a Chinese intelligence agent, killed while at a pleasure clinic in Berlin – a clinic with an all-female staff.

Unfortunately, her ability to investigate without attracting more of Frank’s attention was severely limited. Bill and Elena both got an earful of her theories, though, and while Bill mostly scoffed, Elena helped how she could, pulling articles and profiles under the guise of requests for other departments.

One detail bothered Eve more than anything else about Kasia’s death: it was so _boring_. Much more so than any of the other kills she’d flagged. Clever, of course, to have the heroin addict overdose on heroin, but it lacked the panache of the rest. The logical conclusion would be that it was a different assassin, or perhaps not an assassin at all; perhaps it was what it appeared to be, an unfortunate accident.

 _No._ There was no way. Something was different about Kasia’s death, but it would be too big of a coincidence. There must’ve been someone else in play, some other pressure that forced the killer’s hand. Someone breathing down her neck, insisting it be cleaned up quietly. Just like there was a bearded rat breathing down Eve’s neck, watching her every move, looking for any reason to sack her.

“Bill,” Eve said one day, after Frank leered at her through the office window. “Does he have a life, at home? Like, I’m seriously asking.”

“Kids are at boarding school, I think.” Bill said. “And his wife passed a few months ago. We all signed that card.”

“Shit,” Eve muttered. “Nothing to get him off my back, then.”

⇄🚽⇆

“I have a job for you,” Konstantin said. “It requires delicacy and precision, but I am trusting you because you have been good lately.”

“Oh, so I get rewarded with an extra boring job?”

“I didn’t say boring,” Konstantin growled. “I said delicate. You may find it a fun challenge.”

“Something _you_ would find fun or _I_ would find fun?”

“You know we have informants,” Konstantin said. “Eyes, ears, all over. We like to keep them fresh. Replace them before they rot. Like flowers. There is one who we think is past his time.”

“So I go in and kill him? Easy.”

“It is not so simple,” Konstantin said. “There is someone else on this job. She was sent out yesterday, but hasn’t been able to… complete.”

“She?”

“Don’t be so surprised. You know our organization is large. There are many others like you.”

“But I am the best.”

Konstantin smiled. “You are going to go and help out your little colleague, okay? Nice and gentle. Find out what went wrong, and make sure it’s finished up properly.”

He handed her a postcard. Villanelle’s eyebrow went up. “London?”

“Just outside it, actually. All the information is there.”

“How exciting. I’ll get packed.”

“Don’t go crazy,” Konstantin said. “You should be able to be back by night.”

Villanelle dressed in a pair of functional pants, heavy boots, and a warm sweater. Mole Patrol didn’t deserve her best clothes, and though she felt tempted to intimidate the colleague she was destined to meet, she decided it would be more fun to psych her out with an uber-professional facade. Keep a perfectly gruff expression at all times. Speak only in code. Wear a posture that screamed _I outrank you_.

When she finally arrived at the agreed upon location in Bletcham, she found a red minivan parked on the side of a small residential road, with a woman inside. Upon closer inspection, the woman was sleeping with the drivers’ seat reclined. Villanelle pressed her face up against the window. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

She rapped on the window. “Guess who?” she screamed, loud as she could.

Nadia’s eyes burst open and she screamed. Villanelle laughed. Nadia reached underneath her seat and pulled out a gun. Villanelle tapped on the window. “Come on. Let me in. I am here to help.”

After a few more panicked breaths, Nadia unlocked the door, and Villanelle walked around to get into the passenger seat.

“So,” Villanelle pronounced, stretching out the word. “How have you been?”

Nadia answered that inquiry with a hard right hook.

“Hey!” Villanelle grabbed Nadia by the collar. “You’d better be careful. You wouldn’t want to piss off your boss.”

“No.”

“Uh, yes. I was sent here specially to help look after you.”

“I am fine.”

“Is the mole dead?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Working on beauty sleep, more like it.”

“I have been staking out for twenty-four hours,” Nadia growled. “He hasn’t come home. I don’t know why he’d be out so long.”

“How do you know he’s not inside?”

“I asked. The woman there, his mother, said he’s out.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Villanelle said with exaggerated disappointment. “Unless… no… it’s too crazy. Do you think she could be lying?”

“ _Yebat' tebya_ , Oksana.”

“Let’s go have another look.”

They did. The woman inside gave the same story that Nadia had said earlier.

“See?” Nadia said. “Not home.”

The squeal of tires interrupted her words as a black van pealed out from behind the house onto the road.

“I’m driving,” Villanelle said.

They chased the van out to an open field, where they found it stopped. Empty.

“Stay here,” Villanelle said. She grabbed one of the high-powered rifles from the stash, and got out. Nadia followed. Villanelle rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything, only crept towards the scrubby patch of bushes at the side of the clearing. That was really the only spot the man could be hiding.

She fired a few shots into the bushes. Nothing. Then, as she crept closer, she saw a figure running down the hill, through the open field. She cursed; with the wind, this would be a difficult shot to make.

“I’ll spot for you,” Nadia said. She pulled out a telescope, aimed it at the retreating figure, and rattled off a series of numbers. Villanelle aimed the rifle, and fired. The figure collapsed.

“Thanks,” Villanelle murmured. “I forgot how well we work together.”

“Me too.” Nadia blushed. “It was kind of nice.”

“Maybe we could ask them to let us work together more often.”

“Ask them?” Nadia looked conflicted. “I don’t think they would let us.”

“I am very important. They will give me anything I want. Don’t worry about it, pumpkin.” Villanelle squeezed Nadia’s arm, and Nadia smiled a bit, that half-smile she used to do back in prison when Villanelle scared a bully away and she felt safe. “I am going to get things set in the car, then drive us to get a great lunch. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Then we’ll feast. But first, can you check that we got everything in the back?”

Nadia nodded and walked around to the trunk. Villanelle got in the driver’s seat. She started the car. She glanced in the rearview mirror, and caught Nadia’s eye. Nadia checked the bags were all in place, then closed the hatchback. Villanelle threw the car into reverse and backed over her.

“Oops.”

⇄🚽⇆

“C’mon, guess.”

“I’m not playing this game with you.” Bill dug into his sandwich at the small restaurant they’d snuck out for lunch after they jointly decided to indulge, leaving the food their spouses had packed for them in the break room fridge.

“If you’d stop making fun of me for a minute, you could join me in making fun of other people,” Eve said. “Just pretend. If someone in our department was one of them… Who do you think it is?”

“Who is ‘them’, exactly?”

“The bad guys. The conspiracy. The black hats.”

“At least come up with a scarier name.”

“I haven’t heard your guess yet.”

“If I was going to pretend I agree with your theories, which I’m not saying I do…”

Eve stared at him, and grinned. “Frank, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t know why.”

“He’s just got that frantic, ‘I’m hiding something’ energy. Plus, he was all over me about Kasia.”

“Rightly so. He’s your supervisor, and that’s not your place.”

“But like, too much. You just tell me to stick my nose back where it belongs. That I can handle. But Frank…”

“Cute as this is, I don’t think we ought to clap him in irons over the fact that he acts like a rodent. Poor bloke’s a widower.”

“Why do you have to be _good_ all the time?” Eve said. “You’re making me feel like an asshole over here on my lonesome.”

“We have to take turns, darling.”

Eve shook her head and took a sip of her sparking water. Then, a crash from the other side of the restaurant. Eve turned to see what happened – a waiter was on the floor, in a heap of broken plates. He must have fallen. Several patrons and other staff members rushed over to help him, but Eve didn’t watch the commotion. She was too focused on someone at the table right next to the chaos.

There sat a very familiar face. Blonde hair, delicate features. Eyes catlike, wide and alert. Long neck. High cheekbones. Lips full; skin smooth and bright.

“I’ll be right back,” Eve muttered, and got up without waiting to see if Bill heard or accepted this goodbye. She crossed the room, and it became clear that the woman had seen her, too. She gestured for Eve to sit in the empty chair across from her.

“I hoped I would run into you again,” the nurse greeted her, in that same soft English accent from before. Sweet as butterscotch.

“Uh, I actually was hoping the same thing,” Eve said.

The woman smirked. “Do you need to make an excuse to your friend, or shall we just–”

“How well do you know the rest of the staff on your floor?”

“What?”

“At the hospital. Could you recall who was working that night, that night we…”

“Had sex?”

“A girl was murdered that night.”

The woman grew startled at that, a deer in headlights. Eve was embarrassed. She forgot that for most people, murder was not fascinating. Murder was a horror that you hear about on the news and run away from. Of course that news would be shocking to her.

Of course, Villanelle found murder not at all shocking, and incredibly fascinating; her shock was more due to Eve’s certainty that the death was in fact a murder. However, it didn’t take long for her to remember she was here to flirt, not to kill, and slip back into her civilian act.

“I’m sorry,” Eve added hastily. “I didn’t mean to shock you, but… Kasia Molkovska, you must’ve heard, no?”

“She died of overdose,” the nurse said, her tone drier, duller.

“Right. But who gave her the drugs?”

The young woman had nothing to say to that, so Eve continued to explain. “The previous day, Kasia was witness to a murder – an assassination – of a political figurehead, Victor Kedrin.”

“Are you with the police? Are you investigating this?”

“Technically, no,” Eve admitted. “Between you and me… I think someone within MI5 is trying to get me to stop. Which means, I must be onto something.”

“Or, they just want you to focus on your proper job.”

“You’re a nurse. If you were assigned to one floor, but passed a patient bleeding out, would you leave them to die just to stick to your proper assignment?”

“I’m not,” The woman said. “A nurse. Anymore. I quit, not long after that night.”

“Well, you could’ve said that a while ago!” Eve snapped. She regretted the harshness of her tone a bit too late; this poor woman didn’t ask for any of this.

However, rather than upset, the woman seemed amused at Eve’s escalation. “I would have, but you didn’t let me get a word in.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright. It’s cute.” Villanelle’s chest fluttered. As if it wasn’t enough this Asian woman was so attractive, she had to go and be cute, too? Villanelle was glad she was getting her second shot. If she played her cards right, maybe it could be an ongoing arrangement…

“Um…” Eve bit her lip, trying to put this the right way. “I’m married.”

“That’s not a problem.”

“It kind of is.” The woman looked disappointed at that, so Eve decided to clear things up quickly. “Look, if you remember anything from that night – names, faces, or any suspicious activity around Kasia’s room – here’s my number.” Eve pulled out a pen from her bag and scribbled it on a napkin.

The woman took it. “What’s your name?”

“Eve. Polastri.”

“Eve Polastri,” the woman repeated, seeming to savor it.

Before she could return the favor, Bill shouted across the room. “Eve!”

“Hold on,” Eve called back.

“It’s a big bloody deal. All alarms. You’ll want to hear this.”

“Jesus, what’s so important that it can’t wait ten seconds?”

“Frank’s dead!” Bill yelled.

The restaurant fell silent.

Eve felt a bit foolish. She shot an apologetic look at the nurse, and ran off to meet Bill.

Villanelle bit her tongue to keep from screaming in delight. This just got a whole lot more interesting.

⇄🚽⇆

“How did it go in England?”

“Swell. You want sausage?” Villanelle picked up the small skillet from the stove and held it out at Konstantin. He leaned away.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I shot the guy, bang, in the head. He went down. Nice and clean.”

“And the other operative?”

Villanelle tutted. “You know, it was so sad. She was going after the target, and he got in his car? I told her to be careful, but she wanted to make a shot, and he backed right into her. Drove over her, crunch! I was horrified, but I had to stick to the job and make sure he didn’t get away.”

“Right.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any?”

“I have good news, and bad news,” Konstantin said. “Nadia is alive.”

“What?” Villanelle said. “No. He drove over her. Twice.”

“She is alive, and she was picked up by the authorities. She has been shipped to Moscow.”

“No.”

“Yes. So you are taking a little trip.”

“I can’t,” Villanelle said, crossing her arms. “I have things to do.”

“Things? What things?”

“Personal stuff.”

Konstantin frowned. “It is okay to be scared.”

“I’m not scared!” Villanelle was never scared of anything, and frankly, rather offended at the suggestion. The truth was, she didn’t want to go back to Russia because she found it the most unpleasant and tacky country she’d had the misfortune of spending her first two decades, and besides that, she didn’t want to lose momentum with her new friend, Eve.

“You will not have to see Anna. You won’t be anywhere near her.”

“Who said anything about her?” Villanelle snapped, her voice creeping up a few tones.

“You have to do this, Villanelle. Clean it up. Otherwise, the hurt canary sings the loudest.”

Villanelle squinted at him. “Did you just make that up?”

Konstantin softened. “I did.”

“I like it. You should write greeting cards or something.”

⇄🚽⇆

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” Bill muttered.

“Shut up and help me look!”

Eve tore apart the cabinets in Frank’s office, while Bill attempted to get into Frank’s computer. “Any luck?” Eve hissed.

“Not yet, haven’t got the password.”

“Try harder! We need to find proof that he was an informant before the proof magically disappears, along with him.”

“Eureka!”

“What is it?” Eve ran over to the computer to see.

“I have discovered that his password is _not_ 1234.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Just trying to inject some levity into this situation. I thought this kind of stuff was behind me when I left the field.”

“What on Earth are you two doing?”

Eve’s head whipped to the door of the office. Carolyn Martens stood tall and imposing in the doorway, in a killer black-and-white jacket that she wore like she knew exactly how much it was worth.

“We’re, um… spring cleaning?”

“I think you two ought to come with me.”

Carolyn silently led them out of the building, down several streets. Eve looked to Bill, like, What the Hell is going on? But Bill simply shrugged.

Finally, Carolyn let them into a small, shady-looking office building, up two flights of stairs, through an airlock door, and into a tiny, smelly, office. The office had a few desks, one of which was occupied by a young, pale man. However, Eve’s eyes went immediately to the large cork board dominating the opposite wall.

“What’s that?”

“That,” Carolyn said, “is what killed Frank.”

Carolyn got them up to speed on the investigation she had been heading on behalf of MI6, into a large international organization known as the Twelve. However, ever busy, she had to leave a few minutes later, leaving them with hundreds more questions than they came in with. It was the left to the the young man, Kenny, to fill them in further.

“This is nuts,” Eve said.

“Truly,” Bill agreed. “Who would’ve thought you’d be right about something?”

“I’m saving my official ‘I told you so’ for a special occasion, okay? It will probably involve a megaphone, and confetti cannons, just to prepare you.”

“So you’ve been helping Carolyn investigate?” Eve asked Kenny.

“Yeah,” Kenny said. “Pulling cases. Gathering them. All by myself for months. I’ve been asking Carolyn to bring others in for a while, ‘cause it’s a lot, but she kept saying she couldn’t until she found the right people.”

Eve gave Bill a smarmy look. “Hear that? We’re the right people.”

“Don’t get too excited.”

“Do we need any more?”

Kenny shrugged. “I think she said we could have four, in the end, so maybe one more.”

“Good. There’s someone else I want to ask,” Eve said. “She’s been helping me, uh, off the books.” Bill raised an eyebrow. “Her name’s Elena. You’ll like her.”

Kenny merely nodded, then sank back into his work on the computer.

Bill leaned forward in his chair. “You know, just because one of our colleagues was killed, and we’ve now been recruited for a secret investigation into an assassin working for a large criminal conspiracy, don’t think I’m going to let you off the hook.”

“About what?”

“Your little liaison at lunch?”

“Oh, that? She’s just… a contact. She might be able to help us, actually. With Kasia.”

“I’m proud of you, Eve. A proper affair.”

“It’s not–” Eve looked over at Kenny, though he was so engrossed in his work he didn’t seem to be listening. Still, she lowered her voice. “It’s not an _affair_! It was _one_ time.”

“Ahh, she finally admits it.”

“I did not admit anything.”

“And the night of Kasia’s death, after all? No wonder you backed down with Frank so quickly.”

“Please, stop,” Eve said. “We have bigger things to worry about than my marital problems.”

“So there’re problems?”

“Jesus, Bill.”

⇄🚽⇆

“What am I even supposed to be in for?”

“Stealing hats.”

“Wow, I am dangerous.”

“They were controversial hats.” Konstantin nudges Villanelle. “Pay attention, okay? This is important. When you get in, go see the doctor. Then, after the job is done, get yourself sent to the Hole, and I will pick you up tomorrow. Is that enough time?”

“Too much time. I will be done by night.”

Konstantin frowned.

“Why do you look so worried?”

“I’m not worried. This is my face.”

“You’re getting more wrinkles.”

“I know you are nervous.”

“I’m _not_.”

“But you can do this. Mistakes happen, but it’s okay if you clean up nicely, like you did with Kasia. But I need you to be extra careful, this time. Our sources tell us the British are already on their way to try to get Nadia.”

“Who?” Villanelle asked. “MI5?”

“Maybe. Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” But her mind was already filling with the possibilities of who might be _technically not_ investigating her.

Konstantin looked her dead in the eyes. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you _tonight._ ”

⇄🚽⇆

“This is exciting, isn’t it?” Eve said, as they left the hotel. “A real trip into the field, to talk to a real lead.”

“I feel ten years younger,” Bill said. “Haven’t put my life in danger like this since, well, since the danger of a desk job and a sedentary lifestyle.”

Eve, Bill, Carolyn and Kenny took the first flight out to Moscow after Carolyn returned to the office and informed them that authorities had scooped up a suspect, a probable operative for the Twelve. She was found injured in Bletcham, not far from where Frank was found. She was immediately handed over to the Russians before Carolyn could interfere, so here they are to visit her in prison and see what else they can find out.

Kenny remained at the hotel, keeping correspondence with the newly recruited Elena back at the London office, while the other three went to the prison.

“Remember, this woman may be the one who killed Frank, but she’s not the only one we’re after,” Carolyn said. “We need to find out whatever we can about her employers. She is but the worker bee that will lead us back to the hive.”

Eve buzzed with excitement. After years of investigating this assassin on her own, she might come face to face with the woman in a few minutes’ time. The same woman who had killed Victor Kedrin, Carla de Mann, Zhang Wu, and most likely, Kasia Molkovska. Eve might’ve passed that woman in the hallway, she realized, and braced herself for the fact that she might recognize the face they were about to see.

After they were searched and allowed into the visiting room, Eve, Bill, and Carolyn sat at a table and waited, until finally, they brought in the woman. She was small, brunette, and very beaten up – black eye, arm in a sling. Eve was disappointed to find she didn’t recognize her at all. Even with her _distracted_ state that night in the hospital, she was quite sure she hadn’t seen this woman before.

The woman shuffled meekly over to sit across from them at the table.

“Hello, Nadia,” Carolyn said. “We’d like your help. Of course, we are prepared to help you in return.”

Nadia flinched, and stared down at the table. Eve didn’t like this. It didn’t seem right for such a famed assassin to be so frightened.

“We understand you’re in a difficult position, but we are prepared to offer you full protection if you help us. Now, what can you tell us about the Twelve?”

Nadia said nothing.

“Can you tell us who gives you your orders? Or other names you’ve been sent to kill. We’re not picky.”

Nadia remained silent. She mostly looked at the table, but once in a while, her eyes would flick uneasily to Bill.

Eve leaned over to whisper in Bill’s ear. “Can you leave?”

“What?”

“I think… I think she’s scared of you.”

Bill nodded, got up, and left. He might be a dickswab sometimes, but he knew how to play for the team. Once he was out of the room, Eve clasped her hands on the table. “It’s okay, Nadia. We want you to feel comfortable speaking to us. We want to work with you.”

Nadia’s lip trembled as she finally spoke. “I can’t help you.”

“If you fear retribution, we would like to protect you,” Carolyn said. “We may even be able to secure your release from this prison, but in order to do that we’ll need you to give us something first.”

Nadia’s eye dart about, evaluating her options.

Eve tilts her head. “Tell us about Frank Haleton. How did you kill him?”

“Don’t you already know that?”

“The autopsy showed that you shot him from quite a distance, it must have been difficult.”

“We made it work.”

“We?” Eve looked at Carolyn, triumphant. “ _We_.”

“You were not working alone?” Carolyn prompts.

Nadia shakes her head. “I can’t tell you any more. I’m in danger.”

“From whom?”

“She’s here. I saw her.”

“Who’s here?” Eve demanded.

“Oksana. She’s here to kill me, I know it.” Tears started to well up in Nadia’s eyes. “Please, you have to get me out, now.”

 _Oksana._ Eve filed the name away. The way that Nadia’s eyes filled with fear just saying it, this other woman must be significant.

“I would sincerely love to help you,” Carolyn said. “However, we need just a bit more if we want to negotiate a release this quickly.”

“Tell us about Oksana,” Eve said.

“I can’t.”

“Anything. You don’t even have to say it, just point us in a direction.”

Nadia stayed silent. Carolyn took a deep breath, and stood up. Eve wanted desperately to stay, and keep talking to Nadia for however long it took, but Carolyn’s posture said there was no arguing.

“Wait.”

Carolyn paused. Eve’s heartbeat picked up.

“If you want to know about Oksana… talk to Anna Leonova.”

⇄🚽⇆

Armed with a small knife up her ass and few broken ribs (getting to see that doctor was harder than it used to be back during her first stay in this prison), Villanelle was eager for the first chance to see Nadia. Dinner would work, probably.

Sure enough, she spotted Nadia in the cafeteria, but Nadia spotted her, too, and began screaming and running. The guards were hardly sympathetic to a spooked inmate, chalking it up to nerves or mental illness, most of the time, but they begin to take notice of Nadia screaming and throwing potatoes and silverware, anything the can get her hands on, in Villanelle’s direction.

Time for a distraction. Villanelle shoved a few girls into each other. They shove her back, but a couple punches later, no one remembered who started it, and a full riot broke out. The guards pulled out their batons and shouted at the crowd. Villanelle dropped to the floor and crawled out between wrestling legs until she was free of the crowd.

Nadia had disappeared, but there weren’t many places she could go. Villanelle walked swiftly down the hallway, towards the cell block. Walk fast, don’t run – running was a surefire way to get shot down.

She spotted the cell she was looking for, and darted inside, against the front wall. A few minutes later, the guards barked for everyone to go back to their cells, and soon, Nadia was rushed inside, with the door slamming shut behind her.

She didn’t see Villanelle at first, she ran for the bed, fumbled for a piece of paper.

“Surprise,” Villanelle said. Nadia screamed. “What, you are not happy to see me?”

“You’re here to kill me?” Nadia whimpered.

“Yes.”

“Please…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make it quick.”

“I’m talking to the British,” Nadia sobbed. “They are going to get me out. You could make a deal, too…”

But Villanelle isn’t concerned about getting out. “Was one of them an Asian woman with amazing hair?”

Nadia nodded, and mumbled something incomprehensible among her sobs. Villanelle didn’t listen. Her mind was already filled with Eve. Eve, that tricky little housewife. She played innocent, before. Not technically investigating? Well, it was a fair trade, Villanelle realized, since she wasn’t technically ever a nurse.

While she stabbed the knife into Nadia over and over, leaving no room for error this time, all she thought of was where Eve might be right now.

The guards came to check the cell soon after, but it was too late. Villanelle had done her job, and done it well. She raised the knife, covered in blood, as was her entire person, and howled, “Take me to the Hole!”

The Hole was the highest form of punishment the prison had to offer, though tonight, Villanelle welcomed the quiet. Before, it was torture to be left alone with nothing to do, but now? If her mind strayed at all towards Anna, all she had to do was morph the image into Eve – easy peasy. To pass the time, she curled up on her side on the hard cot and got herself off a few times. Eve was here, in Moscow. So mischievous, so determined. Villanelle couldn’t wait to see her again.

It was a few hours of solitude before a guard came and marched her out to freedom. This second time in prison was much more enjoyable than the first, Villanelle thought. Broken ribs notwithstanding, she was quite pleased with her stay, and as they marched her outside and threw her in the back of a van, she almost felt wistful to say goodbye.

⇄🚽⇆

“Anna Leonova, French professor at Moscow State University,” Kenny had told her. Eve went down to campus right from the prison, ignoring Carolyn’s chiding that this was a pointless diversion. Their flight home wasn’t until that evening, and even though Carolyn seemed to consider their meeting with Nadia a dead end, Eve wasn’t about to leave a perfectly good lead behind. Bill, for his part, agreed; he was quite enjoying his first trip out into the field in a decade, and gladly volunteered to keep an eye on the prison until it was time for their flight, should anything new transpire, or should Nadia ask for another meeting.

Who could this mysterious Oksana be? Another operative for the Twelve… Another assassin? Perhaps the one Eve was looking for? Though there was no evidence to support it, Eve’s gut wanted it to be true. There was no way Nadia was the one they’d been after for years; she didn’t have the stuff for it. But the fear that just speaking Oksana’s name brought up for her…

Eve caught Anna between classes, and asked if she might be willing to help with an investigation. She greeted Eve warmly, and said, of course she would.

“This is going to sound a bit odd, but, we have a source who pointed us to you, to ask about an Oksana. Does that name ring a bell?”

The way Anna’s face blanched at the mere sound of the name answered that question clearly.

It took a good deal more wheedling to get her to agree to talk, but twenty minutes later, Anna brought Eve back to her home.

“I’m sorry for making you come all this way, but it’s really better to talk here. Would you like tea?”

“Thank you.”

Anna told Eve about her former student, Oksana Astankova. How she was one of the brightest students Anna ever had, and indeed, one of her favorites, until she killed Anna’s husband, and went to prison.

“I’m sorry for opening old wounds,” Eve said. “But I really appreciate it, it’s important to our investigation.”

“Can I ask what you are investigating?”

“We believe Oksana may be involved with a large criminal organization we’re trying to bring down.”

“That’s impossible,” Anna said immediately. “She’s dead.”

“She’s dead?”

“She died in prison, three years ago.”

“Oh.” Eve furrowed her brow. Was it possible she’d found the wrong Oksana? But Nadia had specifically pointed them to Anna, and what were the odds that Anna just happened to know another Oksana, who happened to also be a killer? That would be an even bigger coincidence than Kasia dying of an accidental overdose.

While Anna went into the kitchen to pour the tea, Eve pulled out her phone, and sent Kenny a message to start pulling all files he could find on Oksana Astankova. She noticed an incoming call, from Bill, but silenced her phone, since she heard Anna coming back.

A moment later, Anna reappeared with two steaming cups. “I’m sorry if this is a dead end for you.”

“I’m not sure yet. And even if it is, I appreciate the help.” Eve picked up one cup. “Can you tell me anything more about Oksana? What was she like?”

“She was intelligent. Funny. Rude. She was good at making you feel bad.” Anna laughed bitterly. “She used to send me things. Letters, gifts.”

“Do you still have any of them?”

“Maybe a few things.”

Anna went over to a cupboard in the corner, and pulled out an old shoebox, which she placed in front of Eve.

“Anna, this isn’t a ‘few’ letters…”

“She had a… fixation.”

Eve pored through the objects in the box; first, the letters, written in elegant script.“Did she always write to you in French?”

“Usually. French was her favorite. English, too.”

Multiple languages. That certainly fit the profile Eve had started to build for the assassin, who had to blend in to any culture and situation…

She shuffled through the next objects in the box. A glass bottle, that looked like it originally held perfume. A band around the middle read in gold lettering: _La Villanelle_. Eve wasn’t sure why, but something about that struck her.

Then, beneath the letters, a few framed pictures. Some are group shots, but besides Anna, there’s one face that Eve began to notice in every photograph. It looked familiar… but it couldn’t be, really… At the bottom of a pile is a school portrait, a very clear shot of the face that must belong to Oksana Astankova. She was young, and her hair was long and brown, but the face was unmistakably familiar to Eve.

Delicate features. Full lips. Catlike eyes, wide and alert.

Eve’s stomach dropped. Her blood turned to ice in her veins. She dug her nails into her thigh – this must be a dream; if she could only wake herself up – maybe all of it from the very start, from that night…

She was dimly aware of Anna asking if she was alright, but couldn’t bring herself to answer. She had to tell someone, didn’t she? She grasped for her phone, but before she could decide whom to call, she noticed a voicemail from Bill. Trembling, she pressed play.

Hearing Bill’s voice was oddly soothing, and helped bring Eve back to Earth. “I was going to say I got the boring job, before, but turns out I may have been wrong. Nadia’s dead. I’m not sure how long ago it happened, because the guards put up a real fight when I asked about it, but something dodgy is definitely at play here. What’s that–?! Hold on, Eve. I’ve got to go. Call back when you can.”

Eve pressed the button to call him. “What happened?” she asked, immediately.

“Eve. Good. Right after those guards finally coughed up about Nadia, I saw a van leaving, and asked what it was about. When they wouldn’t give a straight answer, I decided to skip the interrogation and assume it was worth following. I’m still tailing them now, in a taxi.”

“Shit. Bill, I have something big–”

“Hold on, they just stopped. Shit, it’s open, and – did you hear that, Eve? There was a shot. I’ll get out here. _Spasibo._ ” Eve heard a shuffling and the sound of Bill slamming the taxi door. “I think I’ve just witnessed a prison break, Eve. Two prisoners just got out of the van – one woman got shot by a guard, but one ran off. This is our killer, I’m sure of it. I’m going to follow her.”

“Bill, be careful. She’s dangerous, don’t–”

“I don’t want to lose eyes on her. Besides, she isn’t armed. We’ll just see where she leads us, and–”

Bill’s voice breaks off, followed by sounds of a struggle. Gurgles of desperation, cries of pain, gasps of choking… it was like cheesy sound effects from a movie, but right in her ear.

“Bill?” Eve shouted, though she knew it did no good. “Bill!”

Anna looked on with concern, and whispered, “What is happening? Should I call the police?”

Eve ignored her, tuning into every tiny rustle, the sound of a new hand taking the phone. A new voice spoke. A Russian accent. “Hello, Eve.”

Eve’s entire body shivered. “Hello?”

“I’m sorry about your friend. You two really seemed to get along.”

“You killed him,” Eve said. “And you killed all of them. Even Kasia…”

“I was just doing my job.”

Eve’s overwhelmed with the sense that she’s dreaming again. She can’t find the right words to say. The sound of sirens and heavy footsteps came through the phone. “I have to go,” the voice said. “But I hope I will see you again, Eve. We have fun, don’t we?”

Then the call ended.

While Bill bled out on the streets a few kilometers away, Eve collapsed into Anna’s armchair.

“What has happened?” Anna asked.

“You should probably stay with a friend for a while,” Eve murmured. “Oksana is alive.”

⇄🚽⇆

Villanelle ran down the alleyway. A few blocks away, a car sat idling with its door open. She hopped inside, and the car drove off before she even had her seatbelt on.

“You did the job?” Konstantin barked, as he wove through Moscow traffic.

“Duh. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t.”

“Good.”

“You know, a ‘hello’ or ‘how was prison’ would be nice.”

“I’m sorry. There is a lot going on,” Konstantin said.

“Like what?”

“It doesn’t concern you, and that is a good thing.”

“Does it have to do with the British?”

“Don’t worry about it. You are doing everything you need to do. I’m very proud of you, Villanelle.”

Villanelle’s chest puffed up a bit at that. She was not immune to flattery. “You should be,” she said.

Konstantin pulled the car over with a screech. They had arrived at the airport. “Here. Your ticket back to Paris. First class, for a job well done.”

Villanelle did not reach immediately for the ticket.

“What? You do not want to go home? I thought you’d be eager to get out of Russia. That’s why I got you the first ticket possible.”

“Now that I am already here…” Villanelle said. “I have some unfinished business.”

“Do not go see Anna. It will only make you unhappy.”

“Not that.”

“Then what?”

Villanelle said nothing. If Konstantin knew anything about Eve, she knew it would be bad. He was just her boss; he didn’t need to know about any of her extracurricular activities.

“Go home.” Konstantin shoved the ticket at her, again. “Take a nice bath. Wash prison off of you.” Then, his tone softened. “There will be other girls.”

“I know that,” Villanelle snapped.

“And you can find some in Paris. Go.” Konstantin pushed her out of the car. He wanted to get home to his family. Annoying as his daughter was, she’d be even more annoying if he didn’t get home soon, with ice cream.

⇄🚽⇆

Eve, Kenny, and Carolyn sat three in a row at the airport. Eve still had a hospital visitor badge stuck to her sweater. She couldn’t bear to peel it off. In spite of everything, it had been brief, at the hospital. It didn’t take long to declare that it was too late. They got to keep their original flight, after all, though they had an extra ticket to exchange, now.

Kenny broke the silence. “So… should we bring his things back to Keiko?”

“I think so,” Carolyn said. “I’ll let them know we have an extra check bag.”

Carolyn walked briskly over to the customer service desk. Eve stared at Bill’s suitcase, on the floor next to hers. The sight suddenly thawed her. “This is so messed up,” she barked. “We’re just going home? Our assassin is still here. We should be chasing her… _killing_ her for what she did to Bill.”

“I’m not saying I disagree, but…” Kenny shrugs. “I think we need to trust Carolyn on this call. If she says it’s time to go home and regroup, I think that’s wise.”

Eve privately thought some rather rude things about Kenny, including words like _coward_ and _pussy_ , but in all fairness to Kenny, she didn’t realize he was deferring not only to his boss, but also his mother.

A moment later, Carolyn returned. She offered Kenny some cheese puffs. He accepted. Eve heard all of this like background noise.

Her phone rang, and she was tempted to let it go to voicemail, but there was a chance it was Niko, and she really could stand to hear his voice right now. Anything that would recall a sense of normalcy. A sense of life that didn’t feel like a hallucination, which frankly, she hadn’t felt since before that night at the hospital.

When she looked at the screen, she saw it wasn’t Niko, but Elena. She picked up anyway.

“How’s it going, Russia team?”

Eve’s mouth went dry. She didn’t have the strength to break the news to Elena; not yet. “Fine.”

“Look, I know it might not be worth calling about, but frankly I was looking for an excuse to speak to another human after being alone in this office all weekend. I was looking at the accounts Kenny was tracking, the account that paid for Frank’s kids’ school tuition? Anyways, I found that the same account pays rent for a flat in Paris.”

A flat in Paris. Eve’s heart began to pound. “Where?”

“I’ll send you the address.”

Eve grabbed her suitcase and got up.

“Eve? Where are you going?” Carolyn said. “Don’t tell me you want to stay here. I don’t want to go through this again. If you want to stay, it’s your business, but I’ll be clear: if you don’t come back to London with us now, you will not be coming back, ever. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.”

Eve pulled her suitcase behind her as she walked off.

⇄🚽⇆

Motherfucking Paris.

 _French was always her favorite_ , that’s what Anna had said, only a few hours ago, and yet, so much had changed.

Eve should’ve expected this. All of this. That night, that bathroom… she’d thought it a horrible mistake, and too good to be true, all at once. This revelation is the perfect cherry on top of a shit sundae.

After a bit of lying and help from a nosy neighbor, Eve got into the apartment. It was chic as shit. Several rooms. Hardwood floors. A bathroom with custom gold taps. A queen-size bed covered in a silk throw. A wardrobe full of various disguises and wigs and weapons. As Eve pushed through the clothes, she found a blue nurse’s outfit that was all too familiar. She threw her head back and laughed, wild and high, like a hyena.

Meanwhile, Villanelle was getting off her plane, thinking of the bath she’d draw when she got home. Konstantin was right, it would feel so wonderful to the stink of prison off of her – plus some of Nadia’s blood that was still soaked into her nail beds. She’d get a manicure tomorrow. She’d lie in bed, with a heating pad on her ribs, and drink champagne all night. Then, she’d plan her next trip to London.

Eve continued to explore the flat. She went to the kitchen next, and pulled open the fridge. Nothing but champagne. Of course. She popped one bottle, took a hearty glug. Then she smashed it on the floor. Then another. One by one, until they formed a sea of liquid full of green glass shards.

Villanelle got out of her Uber, and rated the driver one star. She wrote a quick review about how he tried to lock the doors on her and stick his hand up her skirt, grinning to herself as she walked up to her building. In retrospect, she was able to admit that she _was_ just the tiniest bit nervous, but it’s all gone now. She went to Russia, and she survived. Maybe she really had grown up after all. She was a mature woman, ready to start a mature new relationship, with a new girl – just like Konstantin told her to.

When Eve heard the sound of keys in the door, her rage dissipated into nightmare panic. Thankfully, she managed to kick into fight-or-flight gear, and ran for the wardrobe. There were weapons, she knew that… She grabbed a knife, then stashed it in the pocket of her cardigan. That wouldn’t be enough, surely not, so she grabbed a gun, too, and pointed it straight at the door, as it opened.

“Don’t move.”

Villanelle was startled, with the same deer-in-headlights look as she wore in the restaurant, as she took in the scene before her. “Did you have a party or something?” She tilted her head, trying to view the extent of the damage.

Eve was infuriated that she didn’t seem scared in the slightest. “I said don’t move! _Oksana._ ”

“Can I at least come inside?”

Eve lowered the gun an inch, and stepped back.

“You did your homework; I’m impressed. But, if you don’t mind, I prefer Villanelle.”

“Villanelle?”

Villanelle nodded. She didn’t _think_ Eve would really shoot her, but she remained in hyper-alert mode. She was trained that way.

“Okay, then.”

“Isn’t this cute?” Villanelle laughed. “We thought it was a one time thing, but we keep running into each other. We could be a rom-com.”

“Shut your mouth!” Eve raised the gun again. “You _killed_ Bill.”

“I had to, Eve, he was following me.”

Eve gave a single laugh to that; for wasn’t it the most straightforward answer she’d ever gotten? “I have lost two jobs and a best friend because of you.”

“Yeah, but you got some really great sex out of it, so…”

Eve waved the gun in her face. “Sit down.”

Villanelle obeyed. She perched primly on the ottoman at one end of the bedroom, awaiting her next command.

Eve sat on the edge of the bed, across from her. It was a while before she spoke. Villanelle waited patiently.

“I think about you all the time,” Eve sighed. “I think about your eyes, and your mouth, and the way you do your hair. I think about the way you touched me, and how I touched you. I think about how that was the worst decision I ever made, but I don’t regret it at all.”

“I think about you too,” Villanelle said. “I mean, I masturbate about you a lot.”

“Oh.”

“Was that too much?”

“No, I wasn’t expecting that.” Eve was confused. Then amused. Wasn’t this just the perfect punchline? She began to laugh. “This is so fucked up.”

“We can work it out,” Villanelle said. “We can be…”

“No.” Eve couldn’t bring up more than that one word, but _no_ really said it all, didn’t it? _No_ to this entire situation. _No_ to her error in judgment turning into a Greek Tragedy. _No_ to the fact that in spite of everything, she remained ambivalent.

“No?” Villanelle said. “Does this mean you don’t like me anymore?”

“I don’t…” Eve suddenly fell backwards onto the bed. “God, I’m tired,” she said to the ceiling.

Villanelle climbed onto the bed next to her and gently pried the gun from Eve’s hand. Eve didn’t fight. Villanelle weighed the gun in her hands. She tucked it by her side. With her other hand, she reached out to touch Eve’s face.

Eve whispered, “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Are you joking? I was there.” Villanelle cracked a smile. “What do you mean, like, it’s your first time in France?”

Then, the knife that Eve had stashed was no longer in her pocket; it poked into Villanelle’s stomach. Only a half-second of hesitation before Eve drove the blade in. It slipped into the soft flesh of her belly.

Villanelle’s breath came hot and heavy, just like the blood pooling around the knife blade. She flipped onto her back to examine the handle sticking out of her with horror.

Eve reached for the blade. To slow the bleeding or twist the knife, she wasn’t sure. However, her hand never got there, for Villanelle bucked to the side and thrust the gun at Eve’s face. Eve reared back, afraid, as Villanelle fired.

The first bullet caught Eve in the arm. The second, in the chest. Eve had never been shot before. She didn’t know how to cope. She stared down at the holes in her, in shock.

Villanelle was screaming enough to fill the whole apartment. Eve’s screams mingled until they were one. Their blood mingled too, in a pool on the floor.

While Eve stayed in a heap, unable to move, Villanelle crawled desperately for the door. To where? Unclear. Hospital? Maybe. Any place, any way to survive.

But before she made it to the door, a hand grabbed her ankle. Eve, pulling her back. Clawing at her. If she was going to die in this chic apartment, she was going to make sure Bill’s murderer died with her. With the same hands that she’d used to clutch Villanelle close, when she was nothing but a beautiful stranger, she now desperately pulled her down, dragging her to Hell for what she’d done.

They wrestled on the floor, screeching and crying and losing all language. They each became coated in the other’s blood. One in life and death.

⇄🚽⇆

Luckily, their suffering didn’t last long, for it was mere minutes before a squad of cleaners working for the Twelve appeared to finish them each off with a quick shot through the skull. They cleaned the scene and created a plausible cover story for the death of Eve Polastri – their hands within MI6 helped with that. Oksana Astankova was already dead, so there was no trouble there.

Carolyn kept investigating the Twelve, and put together a new team – Kenny tendered his resignation, shortly after Elena set the example. They both found new jobs working at an online news outlet together, and kindled a healthy friendship, though Kenny longed for more.

Konstantin got a new recruit, though she was neither as troublesome nor as intriguing as Villanelle. Still, he rarely regretted not having to deal with her antics, anymore, for with every passing day, his daughter became more of a headache. He worried that she was a bit too much like Villanelle, sometimes. Perhaps something of Villanelle’s spirit had passed into her, not that Konstantin believed in that nonsense.

Niko grieved his wife for years, but he was comforted by the kind, unassuming support of one of his colleagues, Gemma. Years later, after he’d had his time to move on, they married, and had the kids that Eve never wanted to have, plus a couple of cats to boot.

It took a great deal of scrubbing, but the hardwood floor was salvaged. The next renters, a young couple very much in love, never noticed the faint brown ring stained on the bedroom floor; they were too smitten by the luxurious bathroom to care.

**Author's Note:**

> Good thing they didn't fuck, huh?
> 
> send love or hate on [tumblr](https://imunbreakabledude.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/not_breakable) xoxo 🚽


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